


Bird-Feeders, Bar-Bells And Bad Bathrooms

by Cerdic519



Series: Bewhipped! [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, Dom/sub, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Flexible Castiel, Gay Sex, Gentle Dom Castiel, Homophobia, Human Castiel, M/M, Neighbors, Nightmares, Panty Kink, Pie, Pining Dean, Spanking, Texas, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>January in a year of fluff, families, friends and the sort of full-force love and devotion in which professor Castiel has mechanic Dean totally bewhipped. Our two favorite idjits settle into their new home at 820 Venta Road, deep in the heart of Texas. Cas has a teachers' conference, and Dean reacts badly to some unpleasant neighbors. He also has a birthday he will long remember, and gets a note from his husband that leaves him all.. you know. Oh, and there is a Talk.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday 1st January

The house was perfect, Dean thought. Just like his angel.

It still seemed incredible that he and Cas were – well, him and Cas! The captain of the football team lusting after the president of the astronomy club had raised more than a few eyebrows – this was Texas, after all - but they'd come through pretty much unscathed. Mainly because several of the school bullies had learned the hard way that when it came to Castiel Novak, looks were very painfully deceiving!

Dean had been sure he'd lose Cas come college, and that the scruffy genius would go off to some Ivy League joint. And yeah, he'd actually wept when his angel had told him that he'd had offers from all of those places, but he wanted to go to college here in Texas. With Dean. With – and he used the B-word in those awful air-quotes that were so Cas – his boyfriend! Dean may or may not have cried, but he certainly had rewarded said boyfriend with one hell of a blowjob in gratitude. He could still remember Cas' blush when he returned from having had to answer the door fifteen minutes later and explain to the officer just why there had been all that screaming coming from an upstairs bedroom. Thank God that Cas' parents had been out at the time!

After graduating, Cas in English and Dean on his mechanics course, the two had immediately moved in together. Their first flat had been a poky affair, with paper-thin walls, variable water pressure and stains on the wall that were best not inquired into. But they had had each other, and that was more than enough. Their marriage was a quiet affair, and Dean had silently congratulated himself on having it on June 14th, or Celebratory Blowjob Day as he called it in his mind. At least he was never gonna forget it!

And now they had a house of their own, number 820 Venta Road, on a newbuild west of town. Benny at the garage lived along the road at 797, and had tipped Dean the wink that 820's current owners were desperate for a quick sale, so Dean had swooped in, the whole thing being sorted in one dizzying week. Even better, Bobby had given him the whole of the coming week off to settle in to his new home. With his very own angel.

God, he was one lucky son of a bitch!


	2. Monday 2nd January

Number 820 lay about halfway along Venta Road, a quiet avenue which connected at both ends to Londinium Crescent, the main road into the estate. All eight roads on the Britannia Estate were named after old Roman towns in England, Cas had explained delightedly. Dean had not grasped his joy until his mate had added that Venta had, on being taken by the Jutes in the sixth century, become Ventancaster, and eventually Winchester. Little nerd!

The house sat at the junction with Calleva Close, a short cul-de-sac of whose ten plots only one had been built on as yet (there was an access path at the end of the close under the distant railroad through to another estate, but a look at it had told Dean it was little used). The back of the house opened partly onto one of the empty Close plots, and partly onto a small wood, which was protected from being built on. Dean had noted that each house in the street had a short flagpole protruding from above the front door; he recognized the Louisiana state flag above Benny's house (of course!) and the Scottish one on 804 next door. The double garages of their house and 804 were separated by a walled access path to the wood, lower at the front and higher along the back, and a white picket fence ran from where the garage fed into the house round the whole property to the start of the wood.

Cas smiled up at him from beneath that awful lumberjack hat of his, and Dean wondered yet again how on earth he had gotten so lucky. His angel had loved the house the moment he had seen it, especially the honeysuckle-covered arch over the front gate. The two of them walked under that arch and up to the front door, which Dean unlocked and pushed open. Then without warning he scooped up the smaller man into his arms, grunting slightly as he did so. Cas might look small, but as Dean knew from experience, that mass was nearly all muscle.

“Dean!” Cas laughed.

“Just carrying you over the threshold!” Dean smirked. “Tradition, Cas!”

The door opened into a narrow hallway, with doors to the left and right, and the stairs leading up to the second floor. Dean gently lowered his husband to the floor and pulled him into a kiss, to which the smaller man went willingly.

“Our first real house”, Dean whispered. “I love you, Castiel Winchester!”


	3. Tuesday 3rd January

When they both worked, Dean usually got home from work after Cas. The genius worked longer hours than Dean, but a lot of that was marking and prep that he preferred to do away from the college, especially now they had a real home and not just a flat. Dean had gotten into the habit of getting home and finding his husband bent over his work (or sometimes asleep on it), clearly having forgotten trivial things like eating. He would then cook Cas dinner, because although his angel was a genius at work, he was a menace in the kitchen. And like now, Dean enjoyed cooking.

Naked (all right, apart from the frilly 'Kiss The Cook' apron which his brother must never known about).

About the only good thing about their old flat had been the privacy, which allowed Dean to come home, strip off, put his collar on and (if Cas was still awake) enjoy the angel's hungry looks as he did his thing. And if Dean waggled his butt and batted his eyelashes more than was strictly necessary, he knew that Cas would make him pay for it later. With any luck!

Fortunately they didn't have the sort of friends who called round unannounced, otherwise they'd have gotten a real eyeful. Years of being with Cas had gradually erased Dean's innate self-doubts to the point where he was happy with his body, even the absurd amount of freckles that Cas loved to count when they were lying in post-coital bliss upstairs. Yeah Dean was one lucky son of a bitch!

Cas came in from the garage, and growled appreciatively. Dean smirked at him.

“Burgers tonight”, Dean said. “Are you hungry yet?”

The look on the shorter man's face was positively feral.

“Not for that sort of meat!” he growled.

Dean's eyes widened. Then in one practiced move, he threw off the apron and sprinted through to the living-room and up the stairs to their bedroom.


	4. Wednesday 4th January

One of the many things wrong with their old flat had been the electrics; indeed, that was a prime motive for Dean to step up his house-hunting efforts. A couple of months before they had left, Dean had wanted to have a widescreen put in, but luckily had decided to first scope out the basement and see what sort of state the building's electrics were in. He had returned to the apartment ashen-faced, and immediately gone online to start looking at local properties. The place was a death-trap!

In this house, however, his luck just seemed to be getting better and better. The place had been bought new just six months earlier by an Irish family, the Macdonalds, as a retirement pad. Mr. Macdonald had worked for a computer firm in Los Angeles, but it seemed that they'd found that they just could not cope without him, because they had offered him a huge bonus to come out of retirement and do five more years. That package had included a fully fitted-out beach-house, so he had wanted to sell as much of their old stuff as they could. Undoubtedly Dean's favorite bargain had been the 42-inch TV, sat next to the fireplace in the living-room. 

Cas, unfortunately, hadn't been able to swing a week off, and was swamped with work from college. Dean kept an eye on him, as without him the absent-minded genius would forget basic things like washing and eating, and after their meal that evening he guided Cas to the couch.

“Work to mark”, the professor yawned.

“Don't care”, Dean said firmly, placing the remote in his angel's hand. Cas, of course, looked at it as if it were some sort of alien technology.

“Don't you want your programs on?” he asked.

Dean shrugged.

“You need a break”, he said. “Put on what you want. I'll catch my stuff later.”

Cas smiled at him, and snuggled under the blanket he had placed on the couch. Sure enough, less than fifteen minutes later Dean could hear gentle snores coming from the room. He smiled, picked up the dropped remote and muted Netflix, adjusted the blanket to keep his love warm and returned to his washing-up, smiling to himself.


	5. Thursday 5th January

Sam Winchester had once quipped that, when it came to Cas, his brother was totally whipped. Fortunately Dean had been able to making his brother flee the room yelling about brain bleach, by asking him when he had found all the whips and paddles Cas kept in their wardrobe. Which was untrue.

Well, partly untrue, Cas had flatly refused to buy any whips. But he had brought eight paddles of different sizes and surfaces, including a particularly rough one that.....

Dean pulled himself out of that particular happy daydream.

The irritating thing was that his brother was right about one thing. Dean knew that, if it came down to it, Cas just had to look at his husband, and Dean would collapse faster than a house of cards in a tornado. But this was important, and he for once he was going to get his own way.

He hoped!

“I just think that carpet would be a lot more comfortable”, Cas said. “Or tiles. Tiles would be pretty.”

The taller man winced at the P-word. And it was hard to argue with Cas when Dean was naked, and wearing only his collar.

“I really want hardwood floors for the kitchen”, he said. “It'll get a lot of wear, especially the dining area that we have to use to and from the garage. Then we walk through the living-room a lot, and there's the corridor down to the sun room.”

“How about hardwood just for the kitchen?” Cas suggested. “You use it a lot more than me.”

“That's only 'cause you like seeing me naked 'cept for that frilly apron!” Dean leered. “All right. What about the corridor and hall?”

Cas smirked at him.

“We'll go upstairs and wrestle that one out”, he said.

Hell yeah!

+~+~+

It was carpet tiles from the hall to the sun room. But Dean didn't mind.


	6. Friday 6th January

Dean had had only a few concerns about their new house, little things like the noise from the railroad (which it turned out that they barely heard because of another small copse through which the connecting path to the neighbouring estate ran), and possible noise from the children's park opposite (again, a screen of trees blocked nearly all the noise). All in all the place was great.

Well, there was still one thing. The downstairs bathroom. Ugh!

From the hallway, a corridor led off to the right, ending in the 'sun room', a sort of conservatory with wrap around windows. To the left of that corridor was what was probably going to be Cas' study, whilst to the right there was a separated toilet and bathroom. 

It was the bathroom that frankly made Dean nauseous. Aubergine fittings with yellow and orange tiles. With dancing bunnies! The Macdonalds must have both been either color-blind or just plain tasteless.

The bathroom had just a bath and a wash-basin, there being a shower in the second bathroom upstairs. A very generous shower, Dean had noted when he had been shown round, more than big enough for two grown men to, um share. To save water, of course.

Cas actually liked the purple tub, especially after a hard day teaching, and sometimes he would shyly ask his husband if he wouldn't mind drawing a bath for him. It would have been racking up dangerously high levels of chick-flickery if he hadn't accompanied the request by adding what he would for for Dean as a thank-you. 

Memo to self, Dean thought: as well as a new bathroom set which was definitely going to include a bath big enough for two grown men, see if he could get the water to come faster. So he could. Get to come faster.

Cas told him later that evening that a friend of Benny's who had done his house could fit their new downstairs bathroom for them, and even better, could do it whilst they were on vacation in August if they booked now. Dean remembered the 'minor' renovations at the flat that time, and was more than willing to agree. But he still let Cas 'persuade' him.

Dean was such a good husband!

+~+~+

Dean's only other job that day was to put up the house name-plate, which Sam had sent them that morning. A blue and green square plaque that he bolted to the right of the door. It read, 'Cas' Dean', which was cheesy but acceptable – except his bastard of a little brother had had an extra word added in parentheses, in such small print that you had to literally stick your nose against the plate to read:

'Bewhipped!'

Someone was very close to discovering that the state of California had a clown hire service.....


	7. Saturday 7th January

It was the weekend, and Dean found it hard to believe that they had been in their house for less than a week, yet it already felt like home. And waking up with Mr. Comatose of a morning in their glorious bedroom with the wrap-around windows flooding light through the cheap curtains – yeah, he could get to like this.

“Coffee!” Cas snarled, burrowing himself even further away into their duvet.

Dean looked down at his beloved husband, and sighed in a put-upon way. Cas was awful in the morning, especially when there was nothing forcing him to get up at a set time. And they had to go shopping today, for food and a few odds and ends for the house. Not that Dean particularly wanted to endure Wal-Mart and the like, but needs must.

For Cas, it seemed, needs didn't must. Somehow a pillow disappeared into the massed duvet, and there was a warning growl. Time to get creative.

“You should have a lie-in”, Dean said innocently. “I'll do the grocery shopping today.”

Cas froze, then stuck his tousled head out of his hideaway and scowled mightily. Dean grinned. His husband knew full well that he could not be trusted to take a shopping list to the store and come back with more than half the items on it. Or even to not scoot round on the trolley, risking knocking over some carefully-assembled display. 

“I'm making you go to IKEA for that!” Cas sulked. “We need a new pair of bedside tables. I bet I can find some that you have to assemble.”

“Love you too, grump monster”, Dean grinned.

“Hmph!”


	8. Sunday 8th January

One of the (many) things that Cas had liked about the house was the small pond behind the garage, on the open side to the wood. His husband had suggested that, if only for safety, their back fence should be extended along the few yards it lay exposed to the wood, so that morning Dean had gone out to have a closer look at the area.

Cas was eating a bowl of muesli when he heard the scream. He wondered immediately if Dean had found a spider or some wild animal, and quickly slipped his shoes on before hurrying outside. 

Dean was stood in front of the pond, looking ashen-faced. Cas followed his gaze, and immediately saw why. Positioned right up against the high wall along the side-path was a small gravestone.

“'RIP Fluffy, Faithful Friend'”, Cas read. “It's only a pet's gravestone, Dean.”

“It's a dead cat, Cas”, Dean protested, still looking decidedly iffy. “A cat. On my property.”

“Our property”, Cas corrected. “And it's not exactly doing much to interfere with our enjoyment of the place, is it?”

Dean shuddered. Cas knew he was allergic to felines, but his husband's reaction was still amusing.

“Unless of course her ghost haunts the house”, he teased. “We could be right in the middle of something, and without any warning you could feel a cold paw on your.....”

“Cas!”

Cas chuckled. He wondered idly about leaving some fake paw prints in the kitchen at some future date. Or even in their bedroom....


	9. Monday 9th January

When they had taken out life insurance policies on each other, Dean had laughingly joked that Cas would one day kill him through sex. Today, he thought, might be the day he succeeded!

Dean was used to coming home and stripping off, enjoying spending his evenings naked around his horny husband. Except that he knew Cas had needs too, so when he got home that evening and found his collar not in its usual drawer, he was initially surprised. Until he heard a faint noise from upstairs. His eyes widened in shock.

Ye gods, Cas was pleasuring himself?

A loud moan suggested that the answer might just be in the affirmative. It took three goes for Dean to stumble up the stairs, and he bounced off the corridor wall at least once before he made it to the bedroom, falling gracelessly into the room. And there on the bed was Cas.

Naked, his legs folded right back over his head, and his cock head between his lips! Little fucker was actually sucking himself off! 

His husband somehow managed a grin with the top of his dick in his mouth, and gestured to his entrance, which Dean belatedly realized had a plug in it. The bastard had been planning this! 

The mechanic couldn't even manage to get himself undressed, simply whipping out his rapidly hardening cock and dragging out the plug with a faint 'pop' before thrusting hard into his husband. Cas continued to suck himself off, and the sight drove Dean to push even harder, though his vision was by this time blurring, his head arched back as he moaned his pleasure.

And then Cas came. In his own mouth. The sight was too much for Dean, who followed him over he edge with a roar, the neighbors be damned. If this was the sort of welcome home he was gonna start getting, Dean might not live to see thirty!

But what a way to go! What a fucking wonderful way. To. Go!


	10. Tuesday 10th January

The house was complete – well, the house was. The Macdonalds had planned to have a shed built out the back, at the wood end of the fence bordering the empty plot in Calleva Close. They had already paid for it and the foundations had been laid when Mr. Macdonald had been summonsed back to California, so that when Dean and Cas bought the house, they also inherited a future shed. Which, for now, was a set of foundations.

“But do we need it?” Cas had asked. “I mean, we have more than enough storage in the garage, Dean. And the company did offer us a partial refund.”

Dean stared at him in horror.

“Cas”, he said slowly, “it's a shed. A guy's gotta have a shed.”

“You might have noticed that I am a 'guy', too”, Cas snarked. “I do not feel any need to have a shed.”

The damned thing was, his angel was right. They did not need the shed, as even with all their spare crap in the garage, there was still plenty of room. But a mulish part of Dean had always wanted a shed, because.... well.....”

Cas sighed in a put-upon manner.

“This is all about your manliness again, isn't it?” he asked. “You feel that having a shed makes you more of a real man.”

It sounded so dumb when he put it like that. Dean nodded, not looking at his husband.

“You're letting me have my garden”, Cas smiled. “You should have your shed, Dean. Besides, it'll be another room for us to christen.”

Dean's eyes widened. Hell, he wanted that shed put up like yesterday!


	11. Wednesday 11th January

They had had sex in every room on the house by this time, save the small utility area that lay between the kitchen and the pond. Dean didn't really count it as a separate room, as it had a multicolored fly-screen instead of a door. He assumed that Cas had just decided that that meant it wasn't a room, and didn't count.

Yeah, he really should have known better!

The utility room had a washing-machine and tumble-dryer in it, and not much else. There was not even a door leading outside, and only a narrow slit window on each of the three exterior walls. It was at least warm, which was just as well, as Dean was currently naked. Sat on the washing-machine, which was working slowly up to full power from the feel of it, with Cas' cock doing things against his poor prostate that were almost certainly illegal in most states. But it felt so good!

The machine cranked closer to full speed, and Cas seemed to respond by increasing his own efforts, pushing Dean towards what he was fairly sure was his third orgasm. They had done with once before with the machine in their old flat, but not only had that been a low-powered piece of crap, Dean had made the mistake of wearing a cock-ring. It had been one of the (relatively) few times he had ever passed out during sex, and Cas had refused to repeat the experience, even without the ring. Only moving into a new house had enabled Dean to persuade his angel to.....

Dean moaned with effort as he tried to stifle his noises. The room was not that far from the access path, on the other side of which lay their neighbors' garage. He was fairly sure that the Menzies ('pronounced 'ming-iss', Cas had told Dean) were still away with their relations, but if they weren't, they were going to end up thinking that the occupants of 820 were sex-maniacs. Which they were, but.....

Cas, prepared as ever, leaned up and kissed him just as the efforts of himself and the machine made Dean come violently, Cas suppressing his husband's moans with a kiss. Dean could feel the tears in his eyes, but they were definitely ones of happiness. God, he could not feel better than this!

“The machine has another ninety minutes to go, Dean”, Cas whispered.

Oh fuck!


	12. Thursday 12th January

The good thing about 820 was that it was a virtual newbuild, the Macdonalds having lived their for just a few months before Mr. Macdonald's recall to California. As usual on estates like this, the house had been built to the buyer's specifications, and seen from the front it did look a little... lopsided, as the upstairs only ran for about two-thirds the length of the downstairs, the kitchen/dining room having a separate roof. Mercifully not a flat one, Dean had been pleased to note.

Still, Cas loved the house, and that was what was important. And Dean loved Cas more than anything, pie included. Although on this particular day, Dean also quite loved the guy from the local firm who had phoned to say they'd had a cancellation, and was it possible to come round and repair Dean's garage door now? A quick check with Bobby and a promise to come in to catch up on Saturday, and Dean was headed home in Baby.

The door firm had beaten him to it, though thankfully they had only been waiting for five minutes. It took them a surprisingly short amount of time to undo and remove the old door and replace it with a brand new one, and in barely an hour Dean was thanking them and waving them off. He could have stayed and cleared all the mess inside the garage so he could park Baby there that evening, but he knew how busy Bobby was just now, so he headed back to the garage, though not before texting Cas to let him know what was going on.

Dean thought nothing more about the garage until that evening, when he was closing down his computer and getting ready to head home. He preferred the hands-on part of his job, but he knew that he was the only one at the garage who was computer-literate, and that in this day and age such things could make the difference between the business staying afloat or sinking. In all honesty he shared Bobby's distrust of the bleeping menaces, but he would have done a lot more for his surrogate father than just spend the day sorting his bits from his bytes.

His phone bleeped with a text message from Cas. Dean read it, and had to bite back a sniffle. Cas had left work early so he could go home and clear the garage out, which he had just finished so his husband could park Baby under cover that night. God, Dean loved that man! 

He looked up, and saw Bobby watching him.

“Idjit!” his boss muttered. But the old man was smiling.


	13. Friday 13th January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional stuff ahead.

Dean loved his angel, on so many levels. And one of the things he loved most was that, on some level, Cas just got him. The scruffy little genius knew just what to say and do to make Dean happy, whatever the world threw at him. Which was good, because on this particular Friday the thirteenth, the world seemed intent on throwing every damned thing!

Dean had been away from work for just over two hours the day before, and had done his best to catch up by the end of the day. However, this morning a heavy snowfall had blanketed the town, catching many people off-guard, and the normal steady flow of work into the garage had become a torrent. Even working flat out and skipping breaks, it was a seemingly endless day of stupid people who apparently couldn't grasp that, yeah, driving at the same speed as normal when the ground is covered in frozen water had a way of ending badly. The punchbag that Bobby kept out the back for the most annoying customers got a whole lot of use. By the time Dean finally pulled up in their own garage, it was cold and dark, and he felt shattered. Thankfully Fridays was also the one day that Cas had no afternoon lectures, so he would be home early. 

Except that the house lights were most definitely off. Dean's spirits sagged even further, and he stomped into their house and made for the draw in which he kept his collar. 

It wasn't there. Instead there was a note:

'Dean  
Bobby phoned, and said you'd had a hard day and would be home by six. I have gone out to get your favorite meatfeast pizza from that place that doesn't do deliveries, and will also pick up an apple-pie for you – store-bought. I'm afraid; I only got in myself at half-five due to a late meeting. You will run yourself a bath, in which you will relax in until I return, hopefully just before half-six. Once I am back, you are going to put on that horrible 'dead man's' dressing-gown of yours that you secretly like, and we are going to cuddle and binge-watch your choice of TV.  
Cas'

A single tear fell on the paper......


	14. Saturday 14th January

“Hell, no!”

Dean folded his arms and stared pointedly at his husband. Yeah, he would give in to Cas on most things, but fifty bucks for a cheap piece of metal bent to make a bird-food dispenser? No way was he gonna blow his hard-earned cash on that crap!

Except that Cas was doing that thing when his lower lip quivered, as if he was about to burst into tears at any moment. And on a college professor that should just not have worked, but when he saw the tears forming in his husband's eyes, Dean knew that this conversation was only going to end one way. Still, he was not going down without a fight.

“Tell you what, Cas”, he offered, running a comforting hand over his husband's stubbled chin. “We don't need to pay big bucks for a contraption like this. Why don't you come up with your own?”

“Huh?” The guy looked at him, adorkably confused as ever.

“There's not even a proper water thing on it”, Dean pointed out, who had already noted that the separate bird-bath was another twenty-five bucks, plus tax. Some devious bastard was making a fortune selling this crap. “You could easily design something much better, and I could build it one weekend, then set it up for you. All we'd need to buy would be the raw materials. We could set it up next to the pond, so you could see the critters from the kitchen window.”

Cas' lip quivered again.

“You would do that, Dean? For me?”

If it stopped Cas from crying, Dean would've erected a copy of Dame Liberty herself in the back garden, space and the neighbors be damned. He kissed his angel lightly on the forehead and pulled back, toying with the permanently impossible hair. Cas managed a watery smile in return.

“For you, gorgeous?” Dean grinned. “Any. Damned. Thing!”


	15. Sunday 15th January

Dean hated leaving their warm bed (and his hot, cuddlebug of a husband) every morning, but all that drinking the night before had consequences, which meant an unusually early morning use of the bathroom adjoining their bedroom (the Macdonalds had described it as an _en suite_ , which Dean had thought a bit pretentious). Cas, thankfully, did not wake – or so it seemed. For when Dean returned after barely a minute, the guy had spreadeagled himself across the bed, taking up the whole damned thing. 

Dean grinned. Whilst he loved it when Cas owned him and they did their scenes, his husband had a few quirks of his own that he had very quickly uncovered. And finding Cas like this meant only one thing, especially as it was Sunday and they did not have to be anywhere this morning. 

The taller man knelt between his husband's legs, and slowly started to kiss his way up Cas' broad back. Even though he thought it weird that Cas went out running every day, he was more than happy to admire the result. His angel was perfectly proportioned, thin but not gaunt, and had muscles in all the right places. 

One in particular, Dean thought happily.

“Dean!” came an annoyed growl.

“Getting there”, Dean whispered back. “Be patient, o grump monster.”

He reached Cas' shoulders and nuzzled the back of his angel's neck, something he knew his husband loved. Then, finally, he stretched himself fully over his husband, their bodies aligning perfectly as Dean eased against his husband. Even though his cock was nuzzling against Cas' butt, there was something non-sexual about this position, as if it was more important for Dean to be protecting Cas from the big bad world outside. 

“You can fuck me now”, Cas muttered.

Oh. Apparently it was a bit sexual after all. Dean smiled happily.


	16. Monday 16th January

Dean had been hoping that they would get on well with their new neighbors. The Menzies had just gotten back this past weekend, so Dean was considering popping over sometime and introducing themselves. He knew from Benny that Angus was a fifty-something Scotsman, his wife Delilah was in her forties and originally from Georgia, and they had two teenage kids, Archibald and Eulalia.

(Dean had wondered if their being there was why the Macdonalds had moved to the area, but Cas had explained the difference between Scots and Scots-Irish, and hearing that graveled growl giving him a geography/history lesson had led to.... well, things).

The mechanic came home that evening thinking about their neighbors. Which was a coincidence, because two minutes later he was thumping furiously on their door. It was opened by Angus Menzies, who was taller than Dean but a lot less muscular. He looked first surprised, then a little alarmed.

“What are you...?”

“My husband came over today in the spirit of good neighborliness and brought you cookies”, Dean snarled glaring at him. “I don't care if it's Martin Luther King Day or the National Day in Bongo-Bongo Land; if you ever make him look like that again, your good lady wife will be a widow!”

“I was explaining white privilege.....” the man began sniffily.

“The only privilege you're gonna get is that, this time, I 'aint gonna re-arrange your face!” Dean growled. “You hurt him again, and I'll hurt you. Kapiche?”

He snarled at the man who took a step backwards, then turned on his heel and went home to his still distressed husband. What the hell was wrong with people these days?

No-one hurt his Cas!


	17. Tuesday 17th January

Cas had called in a favor from one of his friends at the college, so he was able to stay home from work that day. Dean had really wanted to stay with him, but he knew Bobby needed him just now. The snow had gone but it was still bitterly cold, so work remained hectic. Better than the alternative, he supposed.

He texted Cas constantly throughout the day. Bobby didn't normally approve of such things, but when Dean filled him in on what had happened, he not only said it was fine, but arranged for him to go home early. Which was good, because it meant that Dean could stop at Cas' favorite bakery and also pick up a selection of his teas from the specialist shop that sold that crap. He always felt his manliness was under attack when shopping there, but it was for Cas.

“Andrea came over with some of Benny's famous gumbo”, Cas said with a smile as he watched Dean unpack. His eyes had lit up when he had seen the bakery box. “She was coming home yesterday when I, uh, left the Menzies.”

“She's a good girl”, Dean said. “Benny was damned lucky to get her.” 

Cas walked round and wrapped his arms around his husband.

“She was worried about me”, he said. “She knows the Menzies. They're both deeply into politics, she explained, Delilah having been discriminated against so often just because she is black.”

“Two wrongs don't make a right”, Dean grumbled, feeling his muscles relax as his husband draped himself over his back. “Just because someone made her life hard, it doesn't give her or her idiot of a husband the right to start yelling at you. Especially as you were just bringing them cookies.”

“No, but I understand them a little better now”, Cas said. “I don't know that we could ever count them as friends, but we should at least get along.”

“Don't wanna!” Dean sulked. Cas kissed the back of his neck.

“I could make it worth your while?” he suggested.

Dean's eyes widened as he realized where Cas' hand was going. He was never gonna like their neighbors, but he owed it to Cas to let his husband try and persuade him.

Though he would need a whole shit-ton of persuading.....


	18. Wednesday 18th January

The second floor had five rooms, three to the right at the top of the stairs and two to the left, each set accessed from a corridor. To the right, one corridor passed between the bathroom to the right and a small room to the left that had had Dean instantly thinking 'nursery' when he had seen it, the corridor ending at their spacious bedroom. One had to go right round the stairs to access the left-side corridor, which led past a store room or possible extra bedroom to a second/third bedroom, the latter also giving access to the rooves.

Cas, of course, had everything planned, which his husband really should have expected. That evening he asked Dean if he would help carry his computer and stuff upstairs to the first of the two small rooms.

“Why?” Dean asked, not unreasonably.

“Two reasons”, Cas said. He was fiddling with his shirt, which Dean knew from experience he never did unless he was nervous about something. “The room downstairs that I was going to have as my study has very poor light, especially with the apple-tree right outside. The upstairs room is further along, and overlooks the wood as well as the area where I want to have the bird-feeders.”

“Okay”, Dean said. “And?”

Cas looked at him shyly.

“I know you have always wanted a home gym, Dean”, he said, blushing. “That would really have to be on the first floor, especially as the second floor is so small. You can have the old study, and I can have.....”

His sentence was curtailed by his husband, who seemed intent on kissing the life out of him. Cas could feel tears running down Dean's face and onto his own, but he wisely said nothing.

“I so don't deserve you!” Dean muttered. “And this weekend I am gonna build you the best damned bird-feeders in Texas!”


	19. Thursday 19th January

After their disastrous first meetings with the Menzies, Dean was more than relieved when his initial encounter with their neighbor on the other side across the entrance to Calleva Close, 842, went a lot better. Though it certainly helped that the home-owner, a single woman in her early thirties called Sarah Blake, had been trying unsuccessfully to start her car when Dean had backed out of the driveway that morning, and he was able to diagnose the problem and fix it for her in barely five minutes. She was a stunning brunette in her mid-twenties, exactly the sort of woman that the old Dean would have gone for straight away. The new Dean, of course, knew full well that if he was caught as much as looking at her, he'd be joining Fluffy out by the back pond before the day was out!

Dean had recommended Sarah to get her car checked out at the garage as soon as she could spare the time, and although the encounter made him slightly late, Bobby was understanding when he explained why. Which was good, because unusually Cas had overslept that morning, and only a promise from his husband to pick up something he had ordered in town had soothed his husband's nerves when he did finally wake up.

Well, that and one awesome blow-job. But surely Cas' students knew well enough by now not to ask what that smile meant?

Dean was a little grumpy at having their having to pay thirty bucks for a piece of cloth when he could've gotten it off the Net for less than ten, but as his husband had pointed out that in this case, quality was important. And when Dean drove past the Menzies' house on his way to work and saw what he saw, he had to agree. No way was he letting those bigots get the better of him!

It was dark when he returned home, but Cas insisted on examining his purchase and, typically, on Dean installing it immediately. Fortunately the porch was fitted with movement-detector lights, which helped. Within minutes, the flag of Texas was fluttering in the gentle evening breeze, and Dean resisted the urge to give the finger to his annoying neighbors and their pretentious yellow flag with a red lion on it.

He didn't resist that well.


	20. Friday 20th January

Before Christmas, the garage had held their annual charity auction, this year in aid of the local hospice. People brought in all sorts of cra.... things they no longer needed, and everyone bought tickets for said things. Anyone who had had their car repaired in the two months leading up to it got one free ticket (which was not that good a deal considering the guys at the garage usually bought reams of at least twenty) plus the chance to buy discounted extra tickets as well. Last year had been the best yet, and they had raised over six grand.

And when Dean went into work that day, he found out that he himself had won a prize. He stared at it in horror.

“I am not having that in the house!” he protested.

“I'll tell Cas you refused it”, Benny sniggered, hugging the bottle of bourbon that he (very unfairly) had won. “You know he'll love it, Dean.”

Dean knew that. Worse, Cas would insist on having the thing on display in the kitchen, for everyone to see.

“And don't try breaking it on the way home”, Benny called after him. “Or accidentally running over it with that piece of crap you call a car.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at him.

+~+~+

Cas, of course, was overjoyed.

“A teapot in the shape of a Victorian toilet!” he beamed. “Dean, this is wonderful!”

“Yeah”, Dean said dully. “Wonderful!”

“It is”, Cas smiled, looking meaningfully at Dean. “Because now I have to reward my 'lucky' husband.”

+~+~+

Oh, boy, Dean was one lucky husband!


	21. Saturday 21st January

Saturday dawned dull and wet, and the local weather forecaster (who was far too chirpy for that time of the morning, Dean had thought sourly) blithely chirped that the rain would last all day. Great! However, at least tomorrow was forecast to be dry, so Dean could build the feeders to Cas' design and possibly prepare the ground today, then install them and paint them with preservative tomorrow. 

Cas, of course, had been against the use of chemicals, until Dean had pointed out that without them the feeders would have to be replaced after just a few years, and besides, any bird dumb enough to go licking the feeder instead of taking the food on offer deserved to prove old Charlie Darwin right about the stupider genes dying off.

And it wasn't just one feeder-stand he had to build. Dean stared at the plans in surprise.

“Three”, Cas explained. “One for the smaller birds, one for the larger ones, and a single one for the squirrels. Otherwise they'll just steal the food for the birds.”

“You're still basically feeding rats with better publicity agents”, Dean groused. “We'll hit the DIY store as soon as you're ready, then go by the pet shop to pick up the food and stuff.”

“Won't that be cheaper at the garden center?” Cas asked, surprised.

“Know how much you like supporting local shops”. Dean told him. “And besides, you actually got out of bed without complaining today. You must be keen!”

Cas promptly proceeded to demonstrate just how keen he was. That delayed Dean for a further half an hour, most of which was recovery time!

+~+~+

Building the feeder-stands took longer than he had thought, but when he was done, Dean felt proud of his work. The two bird ones had plastic covers that fitted above them to reduce the damage from rain, and all the bird dispensers had cages around them for added deterrence. Cas had winced at the overall cost, but Dean had said that it was worth the money. 

What he meant, of course, was that it was worth Cas' smile. Which was priceless.


	22. Sunday 22nd January

Dean had begun to wonder if the TV weathergirl was as clueless as she was annoying, because Sunday dawned with leaden skies and a light but steady drizzle. Fortunately by the time he had coaxed Mr. Comatose downstairs and they had had breakfast, the rain had stopped, and there were clear skies to the east. 

He carefully carried the finished feeders out the back. The squirrel feeder, which he had painted white, was positioned close up to the edge of the wood, within reach of the nearest tree. The little rats would not have far to travel, even if Dean silently objected to feeding them at all. Then the two bird feeders, one of which was red and one blue. There were installed between the kitchen and Cas' future study windows, so he could see his feathered friends enjoying their free food. It took some considerable time to get everything up and running, but finally it was done.

“We'd better go inside so the critters can start feeding”, Dean said, looking almost wistfully at the scene before him. Each of the main feeders had six arms, five feeders and a small detachable bird-bath, and each feeder seemed to contain a different type of food. The damned birds were dining better than he was!

Cas came round to stand in front of him, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 

“I was thinking pizza for lunch”, he said. “What do you think?”

Dean was surprised. Cas controlled his diet quite strictly, and pizza was a rare treat.

“On a Sunday?” he asked. “Is this my reward for all my hard work?”

Cas rubbed himself against his husband, and Dean could feel himself getting hard. Right here in their own garden!

“The first part of it”, his angel whispered.

+~+~+

Dean's opinion of bird-feeders (and even squirrel-feeders) was somewhat improved by the end of the day!


	23. Monday 23rd January

It was probably a bit weird – okay, a lot weird – but that particular morning, Dean had an epiphany over soldiers.

Cas was never at his best on Monday mornings, even after such a wonderful weekend as they'd just had. The bird-feeders had clearly been a success, and Cas had rewarded his wonderful husband by taking him upstairs that evening and pounding him into a sex coma. Dean didn't even mind finding himself the little spoon (not 'as usual' brain, so shut the fuck up!) when he awoke the following morning.

No, it was normal for his husband to be barely human most mornings, and persuading the grump monster that the world was worth facing was an ordeal and then some. But this morning......

This morning, Dean had woken up to find Cas fucking him! Not a dream, apparently; the little scruff was working away and targeting Dean's still sore prostate. And like that damned Energizer bunny, he just kept on keeping on, until he finally came inside his husband with a satisfied grunt before collapsing away onto his side of the bed and, the bastard, immediately falling back to sleep. Dean envied him his ability to do that.

The best part of half an hour later (and having made damned sure to bring his husband a coffee in bed, which had earned him a grunt of thanks), Dean was making breakfast when Cas slouched in, looking dreadful. He glared at the kitchen table as if it had offended him, then all but fell into the chair. Dean chuckled, and placed his boiled egg in its cup in front of him, then returned with the soldiers, cut thick just the way Cas liked them. His husband looked up and smiled.

“Thank you, Dean”, he said. 

Fortunately the angel turned his attention swiftly back to his food, dipping the soldiers into the egg with his usual care and attention. Which was good, as he didn't see the tears in his husband's eyes as he watched him. Dean so loved this man! He didn't know what he would do without him.

“More coffee?” Cas asked hopefully.

Probably be able to sit down in the mornings, Dean's brain added unhelpfully. He smiled, and went to get his husband another caffeine fix.


	24. Tuesday 24th January

This was torture. It was cruel and unusual punishment. It was.... God, it was so damned hot!

That morning, Cas had said that as it was his husband's birthday, Dean could do anything he liked with him that evening. And whilst Dean's brain had been blowing several fuses over all the wonderful possibilities, his bastard of a husband had dropped the catch. Dean had to wear the new pair of silk panties Cas had bought him to work. All day. Without coming.

Of course, Cas didn't play fair. In mid-morning Dean got a text from his husband with a picture attached. He opened it without thinking, and nearly came on the spot. It was Cas, at the college, wearing his mortar-board. And nothing else! Dean's eyes watered.

The guys at work didn't help, either. Benny was the worst, but they all knew who wore the pants in the Winchester household, and they could pretty much guess what would happen today of all days. Not the details, thank God, but enough to tease him. Dean made damn sure that he kept his overalls on all day, firmly zipped up!

Then it got worse. Cas had a free period before lunch, and he spent it sending his husband sporadic suggestions about what they might do that evening. Dean was the only mechanic who was actually sweating in the cold garage. And when Cas sent him a second picture at lunchtime of him in the staff toilets wearing his own panties, Dean nearly lost it!

And just when he thought he had victory in his grasp, his evil, twisted husband played even dirtier. About halfway home, Ramble On finished but there was no next tune - Baby was suddenly filled with the sounds of Cas having a very loud and very satisfying orgasm, moaning out his husband's name in pleasure. Which meant that near the junction of West Washington and North Wolfe (thankfully at a stop light) Dean finally lost it.

Fuck!


	25. Wednesday 25th January

It did, he had to admit, disturb Dean slightly that Bobby, who was to all intents and purposes his surrogate father, knew rather too much about what went on in the Winchester household, even if the old man had made it clear that he'd try to run Dean over if the boy ever started providing any details. But then, this was a yearly occurrence, his 'son' having an awesome birthday and not being in much of a fit state to do – well, anything the day after. Which was why the old man had arranged for Dean not to come in to work as usual, but to drive out to a parts dealer two towns over and collect some small items for a classic he was restoring at the back of the garage. Dean didn't even need to take the garage truck; everything would easily fit into Baby's trunk.

Best of all, the round trip would take five hours, so Dean didn't need to get up early. Which was just as well, because he was exhausted from the evening before. Cas had openly smirked at his shattered face when he had slouched through the front door the evening, before handing him the original tape back with a knowing look at Dean's pants. Fucker!

It could be said that his husband's plans for the evening were not exactly what Dean would've done if he'd won the bet. There was no collar, and they both changed into their dressing-gowns before an enjoyable double blow-job in their shower, then came downstairs to watch Netflix. And they cuddled.

Yeah, Dean... did that, and no, no-one knew. His manliness was threatened already by what his friends and co-workers thought they knew about him; if they saw him snuggling into his husband whilst they ate popcorn, pizza and pie (“great choice, Cas!”) whilst watching Netflix, they'd rib him endlessly about it. But the room was warm, Cas was hot – in both senses of the word – and Dean could do this for his husband. He was that kinda guy.

All right, he loved it. So shoot him!


	26. Thursday 26th January

Sometimes, living with a genius (even one who doubled as a sex-god) had its problems. Dean was used to waking of a morning and finding that his husband had burrito'ed himself under their duvet, and he had learned that it was exceptionally unwise to try to force him out. An angry Cas would turn on him and have his way with him, before retreating to his hideaway with a satisfied snarl.

Why yes, Dean did provoke him just a few times. But that was solely because he was a bit of a slow learner! Honest!

This morning, however, Dean woke early to the horrible sound of his husband having a nightmare. Those were usually more Dean's thing, but just occasionally Cas would have one too, and be a wreck when he woke up.

Fortunately Dean knew what to do, even though a (thankfully now small) part of himself rebelled at anything involving the dreaded C-word. He gently eased Cas out of the duvet he was knotted up in, then wrapped himself around the smaller man, ignoring the knocks and bumps he got as Cas continued to writhe aimlessly. And sure enough, the feel of his husband's body soon worked its magic, and the angel subsided into his arms, burrowing into Dean's warmth with a contented rumble.

“Love you”, Cas muttered, not even opening his eyes. 

“Love you too, gorgeous”, Dean whispered back pulling him in even closer. “And when you're ready, we can go downstairs and I'll even do you that special double bacon omelet before I go in.”

“With extra bacon?” Cas asked hopefully.”

“With extra bacon”, Dean smiled. “Never mind the birds; we should be keeping a damned pig out back!”

The keening noise of happiness nearly broke Dean's heart.


	27. Friday 27th January

One of the great things about their new house was the master bedroom. Situated above the sun room, it too had a generous arch along the end wall, the many windows letting in tons of light every morning. That was also helped by the fact that Sarah Blake's house was set on the further side of her plot, so what with that and the Close they were not really overlooked.

Of course, from Dean's point of view, undoubtedly the best thing about their bedroom was that it had a sex-crazed angel in it!

Cas' nightmare the day before had resulted in the duvet cover getting torn, so they had decided that they could do with some new bedding. Cas had picked out some he liked online, but Dean had hoped to go shopping with his husband to check out the local stores as well (and possibly that new pie shop at the mall, if the just happened to pass it). 

Unfortunately these plans were scotched by a phone-call for Cas just as Dean was leaving for the garage. He would have left his husband to it, but his worried expression was not one that Dean was prepared to spend the whole day fretting about.

“The principal asked me if I would step in and represent the college at a meeting down in Austin this weekend”, he explained.

“Giving up your weekend?” Dean pouted. “Seems a bit off.”

“She offered to excuse me going to the conference in August in return”, Cas said. “That would mean we could take two weeks off uninterrupted, if Bobby is okay with it. We could do that road trip you always wanted to do.”

“Sounds cool”, Dean admitted. “I gotta go, Cas.”

“And I'll go and plan how many different states we can have sex in.”

+~+~+

Goddam, it was difficult to drive Baby with a raging hard-on!


	28. Saturday 28th January

Dean was not sulking. He was not lying there, wondering why their double bed was suddenly so huge and empty. And he was not pouting, either!

Who was he kidding? Of course he was. A whole weekend without Cas. The little scruff had had to drive to Austin the afternoon before, and Dean had come home to an empty house. And to make matters worse, Cas had left him several precooked meals, all done in the hour or so he had had to pack, and all labeled with post-its to say when Dean could have them. And there was pie, too. God, he loved that man so much!

Even with the electric blanket on, the bed felt ridiculously cold without his human furnace of a husband. Dean even missed Cas' cold feet (did the guy have some sort of temperature block at his ankles or something?), and only the sheer exhaustion of his day's work at the garage – bless Bobby for putting him out the back Friday when Dean had said Cas would be away – had finally made him fall asleep.

Bobby had also offered to let Dean come in and work that weekend, as there were a few ongoing projects that he could work on. It was certainly better than being around the house, and Dean took him up on his offer, glad to be away from his Cas-less home. He noticed the Menzies loading up their car as he left, with placards for whatever the hell they were campaigning for or against this time. Provided they kept away from upsetting his angel again, they could do what they liked. Otherwise they'd be getting one of those placards shoved right up where the sun didn't shine!

Dean stopped at the linen store on the way home, not just to delay getting there but because he wanted to see if they had any good bedding before ordering their new stuff online. There was one truly hideous yellow and black set with a bee-themed duvet which was reduced to half-price, presumably because they hadn't yet found anyone desperate or tasteless enough to have it in their homes.

He knew at once that Cas would love it. And if he had to redecorate the entire bedroom to match, so what? It was for Cas.

Dammit, now he was having a chick-flick moment in Bed-E-Buyz of all places!


	29. Sunday 29th January

Cas was not due back until around nine, which meant another long day of being without the angel in his life. It was at times like this that Dean wondered just how he had existed B.C. - Before Cas. His husband was his everything now, and about the only thing that had kept him going thus far had been the stream of texts from his angel, telling Dean how much he missed him.

Well.... the one where he'd sent a picture of him wearing a mortar-board whilst wielding a metal ruler, accompanied by some explicit details of what he planned to do to Dean with said measuring device. That had been bordering on moderately pleasant, he supposed.

It was just under three hours to Austin, and Dean nearly cried with joy when Cas texted him at four to say he was leaving, and would be back before seven. Dean at once set about preparing a welcome home for his angel, starting by fitting all his recently-purchased (and still horrific) bedding. Thankfully it didn't jar with the neutral walls as much as he had expected. Or feared.

+~+~+

Cas was shattered when he finally pulled into their garage at just after half-past six, but he still hurried into the house to find Dean. Unusually he saw at least one light on when he had approached the house this late; surely Dean wasn't in bed already?

His eyes widened. Dean was in bed already? Yahtzee!

He may have stumbled a few times on the stairs, and bounced off a corridor wall, but less than a minute later he was in their bedroom and staring at a very naked Dean Winchester lying on their bed. Their bed, which during his absence had acquired a new set of bedding. Yellow sheets, black pillowcases, and a duvet decorated with bees. 

Cas felt himself tearing up.

“Uh, naked guy here?” Dean said helpfully.

Cas grinned and began to strip. It was so good to be home!


	30. Monday 30th January

The houses in Venta Road did not directly face each other, so 820 stood opposite two plots. To the right, next to Benny's house, was a small park and children's play area; nothing fancy but a nice place to go, Dean supposed. The designers had at least been smart enough to plant a screen of conifers and sound-buffering fencing all the way along the road end to reduce any noise. To the left was 833, where Linda Tran lived with her son Kevin. Presumably there had been a Mr. Tran at one stage, but Mrs. Tran was one of those fierce-looking woman from whom a look stopped any questions.

Cas, of course, had had her eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. She had called round that day, and she had brought some interesting news.

“Her son Kevin works at the gym whilst at college”, Cas explained as he took Dean's pie out of the oven. Cas always insisted on reheating it properly rather than zapping it in the microwave, and Dean had to admit that it did make it taste better, though it made him wait. For pie! 

“Didn't think he worked out there”, Dean scoffed, his eyes lighting up at the smell of pie. “Boy's a beanpole.”

Cas rapped his knuckles lightly in reproof, and Dean pouted.

“She said that the gym is updating its equipment”, Cas explained.

“And?”

“You wanted to get some things for your own gym here”, Cas reminded him. “Linda – Mrs. Tran – said she knew the gym owners were just going to dump the old stuff. You could make them an offer.”

“You just want to get me hot and sweaty!” Dean teased.

He jumped when he realized how close Cas had got to him.

“Hell yeah!” his angel growled. “But finish your pie first!”

Hot pie or hot sex? Now that was just mean!


	31. Tuesday 31st January

The playground opposite had been inspiration enough, but when he had first seen the small room next to their bedroom and immediately thought 'nursery', Dean had known that he would have to very carefully select the right time to approach Cas over the subject, and would have to think long and hard over the very best words to use. So he waited until they were on the couch in front of the TV, doing something that was a manly version of what might otherwise have been defined as cuddling, before opening the discussion with his usual degree of tact and diplomacy.

“I think we should have kids!”

Alright, on reflection that could have come out slightly better. At least Cas didn't tense up, or worse, leap away from him in shock. Unfortunately what he did do was actually worse.

“Okay.”

Dean stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Okay?” he squeaked. He sounded like he had been inhaling helium.

“You're thinking about the room behind ours as a nursery”, Cas said calmly, as if conversations about having kids was somehow the norm (they were not). “It would be well-placed if we adopted a baby, so we could reach them in seconds. And when they are older, say six or seven, they could have the room next to my study.”

Dean gaped.

“And you're.... okay with this?” he managed at last. 

“I kinda guessed you were nesting the other day, what with all the time you were in there”, Cas smiled. “Plus the longing looks you had when you came out. We'll sit down tomorrow evening and discuss the various options. Of course I am open to it, Dean, if it is with you.”

“Cool! I mean, that's great!”

Dean Winchester. Master Wordsmith.


End file.
